


The man behind the mask

by Miss_Nocturna



Category: Michael Myers/Female Reader
Genre: F/M, Fantasy, Horror, Serial Killer, Sex, sex with a serial killer, the shape - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-05
Updated: 2018-10-28
Packaged: 2019-06-05 17:08:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15175397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miss_Nocturna/pseuds/Miss_Nocturna
Summary: Based upon John Carpenter's 1978 version of Halloween. Michael learns what it's truly like to be aroused and driven by desire after watching Lynda and Bob fool around and he needs a lady to mollify his instinctual given nature for coition. My story is pretty contradictory to the actual events of the movie - and, well, we all know Michael wouldn't really show his vulnerable side to any woman and allow his dick to think for him....or would he? - but if you're here with the intentions of reading about what it would be like to have sex with Michael Myers, chances are you're a little twisted like I am and don't care about the differentiation! Have fun with it!





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> No copyright infringement is intended. I am just driven by a desire that I've carried deep within me and an inconspicuous lust (love?) I've had of Michael Myers since I was very young. It's time for me to bring that desire to life.

The sound of a relatively close giggle carries from outside nearby as the van carrying Lynda and her boyfriend pulls up. Michael stands in the shadows inside the Wallace residence listening. Waiting. The impatience to take his next victims pulsating through his entirety is all that's on his mind. Beer cans fall out of the vehicle door and drop onto the pavement as Bob picks Lynda up, carrying her up to the house. _"No! No!"_ Lynda giggles, _"Bob! Put me down! Put me down, this is totally silly! Put me down!"_ A testosterone and hormonally driven young love transmits between the two as Bob carries her up the stairs of the porch and out of the chill of the Fall Halloween night air. The rustle of the trees so infinitesimal in comparison to typical Haddonfield Fall weather, but the beautiful smell of the dry crispness is refreshing. 

The laughter quickly falters as the door swings open and all is dark. _"Hey, it's totally dark!"_ Lynda indisputably states, Bob agreeing from right beside her. Lynda calls out for Annie into the darkness of the walls before switching the light of a nearby lamp on a corner table. Bob follows suit with a light in the living room. _"Hey, let's look for a note!"_ she suggests. _"Let's don't!"_ Bob says, pulling Lynda in for a kiss before guiding her down onto the couch, lying on top of her. Michael quietly slips out of hiding towards the sound of Lynda's muffled moans, standing in the doorway of the living room unbeknownst to the two young lovers. As the heat of the dry humping intensifies, Michael's drive to kill is distracted as he feels a stiffness grow beneath his coveralls and an intense animalistic instinct. _"Let's go upstairs!"_ Bob says, nodding his head backwards suggestively towards the staircase. That's Michael's cue to quietly step into the protection of the dark and vacant kitchen as he listens to the footsteps ascending the staircase, erection growing ever harder as it rubs against the material of the mechanic's worksuit he'd just recently embezzled from one of many kills to come. He places a hand over his bulge and palms at it slowly with the imagination of the carnal heat generating upstairs and the distinct cries of sexual pleasure emanating on the 2nd floor. Feeling himself solidify within seconds of cumming as the blood travels through the veins of his cock, Michael stops, not wanting to climax this way and breathes heavily beneath his mask.

All young men, no matter good or evil, are at some point driven by their sexual nature and desires. It was time for a 21 year old Michael to be driven by his. Several years had transpired sitting in a chair staring blankly out of the windows of the mental institute, lust silently whizzing behind his dark eyes as his body was making changes. Michael had escaped the mental institute a virgin and his desire for fornication fully smothered by the greed to kill up until this point. The ambition for sex was all too strong now that he was free to experience it. And Michael would make sure he had it.....

 

 

_..to be continued.._


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ....just a little taste....

_Early afternoon - October 31, 1978_  
  
  
After finally attaining a loan from the bank days prior, the cozy two bedroom home next to the Myers' place in beautiful Haddonfield, Illinois which had been on the market for quite some time, finally became yours after moving from an adjacent town to get away from absolutely everything you'd desperately been wanting to leave behind. A lonely but bright young woman you are, but with a camouflaged obsession you've been carrying around with you for quite some time. That little 6 year old boy who killed his big sister on Halloween night in '63 had been all you heard about growing up being only a half hour away from where it actually happened. There were many tales - some of them telltales and exaggerations after being passed on so many times as ghost stories - and the apparent fear that he permanently instilled in so many. But you carried your thoughts on the matter significantly different. Michael was oddly fascinating. His act was undoubtedly grisly and the amount of evil for such a small child to do as he did is immeasurable. 

All you knew was that little Michael Myers had been spending his last 15 years in Smith's Grove Sanitarium over in another county and would never get out, not even at the defense of being fairly young when he committed his act. A man by the name of Doctor Samuel Loomis who oversaw Michael must've saw something in this boy, now a young man, to beg for such stringent security in never letting Michael walk the streets again. So the only piece of him you could amiably hold close to you in your wild fascination was being a neighbor to the house that the crime originally happened in; the old run down, two story vinyl house.....the " _Boogeyman_ " house. 

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Most all of the boxes had been brought in from the moving van aside from a few strewn out on the porch. The hired-hands were gone, leaving you to be alone and succumb to servitude, both mentally and physically. It was a beautiful ripe Fall day and children and teens who were just being released from school were speeding down the sidewalks, some of them dressed in the costumes they'd worn to school. You pause behind the screen door half-grinning as most everyone that passes stops to take a look at the Myers place, catching a few words out of the conversations here and there such as "Michael, killer, evil, Judith, hell, anniversary". Little did they know that Michael, who had escaped Smith's Grove last night, had come home and was watching and listening from the neglected remains of the insides of the once beautiful, well-groomed home. And little did **you** know that Michael, that little quiet blonde headed boy who killed his sister in a clown suit, had developed into a full grown man and he was going to give you the Halloween night you'd only ever fantasized of.


	3. Chapter 3

The moments while away standing at the screen door with much to be done, boxes to unpack and light repairs to be made on your new little home. What's going on outside is much more fascinating than what's going on with you and your lonesomeness, surrounded by junk you've carried from your old home. After a break in the passerby a short while later a seemingly young lady wearing a dark long sleeved shirt and shoulder length dirty blonde hair steps out of the distance of whatever house she lived in. She seemed to be carrying a fairly large bright orange and heavy pumpkin along with various bits of whatever she was needing at the time and was struggling to keep it in possession as she sat down on the curb. You couldn't see her face for the farness prevented that but you imagine she was beautiful. 

Much to your complete shock, a large, dark figure steps out of your peripherals of what seemed like the old Myers' residence but you weren't certain. You couldn't see much of him other than that he was dressed in black and the back of his hair, which seemed oddly still and stiff in the Fall breeze. It's almost as if it was fake. Whoever he was, he looked like a whole lotta man just from his backside and you felt a little twinge of guilt for allowing your desperation and lack of intimate touch for so long to influence your opinion off of so little of what is seen. The stranger stood statuesque and completely devoid of anything, staring off into the distance at what seemed to be the young and slender woman who had just gotten up from her curbside seat and waddled hastily with full arms towards a maroon Monte Carlo before it pulled off and drove in the opposite direction. 

Just when you thought the man had turned completely to stone he slowly circles around and looks at you, sending a glacial sized chill up your spine. A thrilling chill. The supposed fake hair you'd been eyeing moments before was part of a mask. A pasty colored, inexpressive mask with two cut-outs for eyes comparable maybe to the size of two large chestnuts. You know for a fact that you'd seen the basis behind that mask before, but couldn't quite put your finger on it. Perhaps it was based off of someone you'd seen on TV or a movie. Nonetheless, just as soon as you uprooted yourself from the trance that waved over you, you pushed the creaky screen door open to observe the man better from your porch. The man was gone. He'd vanished out of sight. Just as you hastily travel to each end of the veranda to see if he had potentially slipped behind your house a large tan station wagon with a white, indecipherable logo on it speeds down the streets. Could that've been the masked man?

Stepping down off the porch you turn your back to the streets, stepping steadily backwards and staring up at the feeble, unwanted and ostensibly uncared for house next to yours. The vinyl was soot and grime stained, part of the gutter was loose and ready to clash to the ground any day now, various window panes seemed to sport holes of all sizes and although the grass had been oddly kept short, the shrubbery in front of the Myers' porch had not been pruned. A red sign had been nailed beside the door with bold, white letters " **No Trespassing** ". Most people would see a dilapidated piece of junk that needed to be bulldozed down and to take the bad memories all down with it. You saw beauty and history. All of existence faltered and the world around went eerily quiet. The world stopped spinning. The trees stopped rustling. As you side-stepped closer and closer into the partnered yard and came upon a little white sign that had been stuck in the ground. Aloud to yourself you read " **Strode Realty** " with a phone number printed beneath it. _"But why would they be trying to sell the Myers house after all this time?"_ you quietly ask yourself. 

_"Don't worry. They won't!"_ a voice came from behind you and a tap on your shoulder, generating a startled scream from your depths as you jumped around. _"Hey, hey take it easy! I didn't-"_  
_"You shouldn't fucking sneak up on people like that!"_ you breathed, probably loud enough for neighbors to hear. But you didn't care. They'd already heard your scream.  
_"Chill out! I didn't know you were off in outer space, lady! Jesus, this place has such an odd influence on people!"_  
You look down at the Strode Realty sign once more and point an index finger at it, then looking back at the teenage boy _"What do you mean they won't sell it?"_ He must've been 14, maybe 15 with auburn hair and wearing a striped sweater and dark jeans, holding some schoolbooks at his hip.  
_"Don't you know?"_ the teenager asked.  
_"Know what?"_ You played dumb.  
_"This is the house Michael Myers killed his sister in when he was six!"_ , an ounce of shakiness in his voice.  
_"No, I had no clue."_ , playing dumb again.  
_"You mean you moved in next door to a murder house and didn't even do your research?"_ he asks, dumbfounded.  
_"I saw a good deal on a house and I took it! Would you like to interrogate me some more or --"_ you cut off, perhaps thinking better of it and not wanting to make enemies of the neighbors so soon.  
_"No, I gotta get going. Some Senior named Ben Tramer who knows my sister invited me to a Halloween bash tonight. I gotta get goin'."_ The auburn headed boy turns to leave and shifts his books to the opposite hip _"You should really go to the library and look up old newspaper articles on Michael Myers!"_ before heading towards the sidewalk, slipping away without formalizing the conversation with his name or asking for yours and completely benighted by how much knowledge you really did have on Michael.

You didn't want to enlighten him on all of the intelligence you truly had in knowing about Michael. Perhaps you just didn't want to give him the satisfaction of being just like everyone else in knowing what went on in the house just paces in front of you. Or perhaps you didn't want him to read in on the fascination you'd been hiding so deep down inside of you that no one but Michael himself could awaken. Nevertheless, your chores weren't doing themselves next door. You cross your arms at your chest and rub at them just as you notice the chill of the afternoon creeping closer. Taking one last glance you tip-toe out of the yard onto the sidewalk where young Michael stood with a blood stained kitchen knife in his hand, held up high as if it was a trophy as blood dripped down onto the concrete below. 

Walking back up onto your front deck with a mind racing a hundred miles a minute you think back to earlier when the tall man made his appearance. _Who was that man that was staring at you? Was he perhaps just an immoderately oversized High School Senior moseying on home who'd thought it was a good idea to wear that vacant expression all day to frighten fellow classmates? Or did he actually come out of the Myers house on a dare so he wouldn't be labeled a pussy at the expense of his buddies? Or was he someone **much** different than that....someone you'd kept the idea of tucked in a dark corner of your heart under lock and key? Was that _**the**_ Michael Myers and if so, how had he escaped Smith's Grove?_

Later that night the unknown man would come for you and you would see just who was enveloped in that pale mask and what was cloaked behind the nether regions of that atramentous one-piece suit. You just knew it was him and the excitement overpowered you.........


	4. Chapter 4

**blood·lust**  
**/ˈblədˌləst/**  
_noun  
noun: bloodlust; noun: blood-lust_

_uncontrollable desire to kill or maim others._

 

(Michael)

Up until tonight, October 31st of 1978, it was an uncontrollable desire to get to Laurie Strode. That rush of bloodlust. Thus far, Michael had only met with one experience of euphoria and it was at the age of 6 when he killed his sister Judith. Night after night he stared up at the white painted ceiling of his tiny little cell in Smith's Grove, longing to stand over Laurie's immobile body as life abandoned her and the light left her eyes. To watch that blood pool around her as he looked down, head cocking from side to side in admiration of his accomplishment. Everyone's loss of life before and to come afterward is just a mere pastime for Michael. A quick high. A primal game to get his veins pulsating in anticipation of the main kill. The blood of his veins is most certainly pulsating tonight, but it's pulsating in his dick.

Michael mustered all of his strength not to unload his pent up arousal onto the kitchen floor of the Wallace residence as it was apparent that Lynda and Bob were doing what many young people in love do upstairs. It was something he'd missed out on spending all of his pubescent years under lock and key, many a times sedated. 

Fists clenched to his sides, he slips out of the window paned double doors and traipses through the shadows of the side yard. His hardness brushed up against the fabric of his suit as he walked, taunting him further. The cool night air rushes over his hands as they're the only part of his body exposed to the season's elements as he reaches the openness of the front yard. Other than his own breathing, an eerie rustle of the tall trees and the crunching of the dry leaves beneath his booted, size 11 feet are the only noises Michael can hear through the tiny holes on each side of his mask. No children can be heard trick or treating as it's well past dark. Michael felt powerful as he took free reign of the streets. None of these people nestled away in their warm homes knew he'd escaped his confinement, but he'd make sure they would later on. His unignorable yearning for sex was most important. 

Hidden in plain sight is the station wagon which he'd robbed off of Dr. Loomis and Marion the night prior. Firing the engine up and idling there momentarily Michael sits there, thinking back to just hours ago when he saw you standing inside the screen door of your new home before he took off to follow Annie and Laurie. He thought of how profoundly fucking sexy you were and how he could feel the curiosity and lack of fear emanating off of you as you stood there looking back at him. The pressure of his cock grazing against the jumpsuit and his desires to drive something inside of someone other than a knife were almost unbearable. Michael finally puts the car in gear and grips the steering wheel with so much force that it leaves indentations in the leather and before he can grab at himself and finish what he'd started in the Wallace house kitchen, sets out to his destination of his old childhood home, away from Laurie Strode who was babysitting Tommy and Lindsey. To find a way to get to you.

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(Reader)  
Not a single trick or treater showed up to your doorstep, much to your delight, because you had zero candy to offer and had already spent too much time proctastinating. Living next door to the run down Myers residence was gonna be better than you thought!

You're officially finished decorating and furnishing your bedroom and bathroom, pushing off the idea of doing any more tonight and saving the rest of the rooms for tomorrow. Without much to bring with you from your former home, the furnishing process was a breeze and you'd settled with a beautiful, antique hand-me-down bed with a wrought iron frame, dresser and matching bedside table and lamp. In the bathroom you'd purposefully left privacy blinds and curtains off of the bathroom window that looked directly over into a window of the Myers' residence (quite an architectural choice!). You decided to have a bath, thrilled with the excitement of baring all of yourself freely to the empty vessel which once housed the man you craved to feel inside of you. 

Placing the stopper in the drain, you turn the hot and cold knobs on to your preference and pour a copious amount of bubbles under the running water. You slip your clothes off and expose yourself to the dark, empty void beyond the tarnished and partially foggy window neighboring yours, pretending that Michael is watching you as a twinge of arousal surges through you. Stepping into the bath you descend down into the mass of bubbled water, closing your eyes once your head meets the back of the tub.

A golden silence permeates your home, aside from an occasional drip of the faucet as the day leaves you and night welcomes you, whiling moments away after an afternoon of moving and assembling according to your taste. Opening your eyes you lean up to grab a wash cloth on the opposite side of the tub and catch a glimpse of something out of your peripherals. Turning your head quickly you peer over into the Myers window, giving a moment to let your eyes adjust to the darkness of the home that had been without power for many years. Someone was definitely in there and they were standing completely still but you couldn't make out the shape at first. Your heart starts pounding as you curse yourself for potentially flashing a kid who had bravely snuck into the Myers home, but on the other hand excited at who it actually could potentially be. 

The shape finally comes fully into view behind the dusty window panes. Finally apparent that it wasn't a kid, it was the same man you'd seen earlier in the day cloaked behind an expressionless mask and dark set of work coveralls. He stood there watching you. Heart rate increasing you drop the wash cloth, leap out of the bath, taking a good 1/4th of the water with you and onto the floor as you grab for your robe and ponder how appropriate of an amount of time it would be to divulge your backside to this man. But by the time you'd turned around the shape was gone. Walking out of the bathroom you fasten the robe using only your hand and walk to the screen door of the front of the house, looking from left to right to see if the masked man was in front of the Myers home. He wasn't. You close up the storm door, half excited at the potentiality of the situation, half precautious that your fantasies should've just stayed in the back of your mind where they belonged. This man had, after all, murdered his flesh and blood standing at a little under 4 feet tall. Turning around you walk through the living room and into the kitchen, opening the back screen door, flipping the porch light on. " _Michael?_ ", you called out into the darkness, feeling half stupid that you might be calling out for a man who was laying in a 10x10 room several miles away. It's just you and the crickets chirping in the 55 degree chill of the air.

Just as you start to shut the door you hear the leaves and dry grass crumble beneath feet. The silhouette of the masked man stands at about 6' or thereabouts and maybe 200 lbs. You weren't sure which was louder of the two between his masked breathing and your heart drumming. Re-opening the door you step back as Fall air rushes through and hope that this sadistic fantasy of yours isn't going to cost your life.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ****Trigger Warning: If you're reading this far into the story it's with assumption that you know a lot about Michael Myers and his demeanor. Please do not read any further if you are easily sensitive to any sort of forcefulness. You know Michael isn't gonna give you a tender little romancing, no matter how much that little minuscule part of you wants to coddle him. :) ****

Continuing to back up slowly into the dim lighting of the kitchen, you're halted when your back meets the wall. Michael walks in slowly and without a single iota of hesitation, grabs you by the neck and slides you upwards against the wall forcefully.

" _Mi-Michael!_ ", you managed to whisper though the choking, placing your hands atop his to try and pry his fingers off. His aggressive breath audibly agitated beneath his mask as he uses his force. Pausing, Michael holds you in position midair, tilting his head to the side before going completely quiet. It seemed like forever that Michael held you there but he began releasing some of the firmness of his hold. You slide back down until your feet touch the ground, visibly shaken by the fact that he could've just crushed your larynx with little effort.

The only time Michael had ever heard his name anymore was when the nurses called him to give him medication, or when Dr. Loomis came to visit, expounding his extraordinary intelligence through words trying to talk to Michael despite knowing there was no help for him. He'd been taken aback hearing it from the lips of someone outside of the restrictive walls of Smiths Grove. He never even put one thought into how you even knew who he was.

" _..I want you.._ ", you finally say, looking up into the dark eye holes of that ominous mask, recomposing yourself so that your heart doesn't shatter out of your chest. 

Slipping out from against the wall, you pull Michael by a belt loop into your bedroom and fight with yourself on where to begin. It'd been a long time for you and never for him. Slipping the robe from your shoulders and exposing your bare-skinned flesh, Michael's breathing hastens again and you know you've got to get the mask off of him to see what's hidden beneath. Reaching both hands up to each side of his face, you slowly try to remove it but Michael vigorously grabs both of your wrists with impervious force. 

" _Let me see...please.._ ", you beckon, trying not to show any signs of fear. But a thrilling fear it truly was. Finally at your service Michael lowers his hands to his sides, still trembling with anger. You feel your circulation recommence. With better luck this time, you lift the mask from Michael's face and toss it onto the bed, unveiling a man that puberty had fared well. His blonde hair had darkened with age to a dark amber color and was slightly long and curly, although tousled from mask wear. His eyes were just as dark, mainly due in part to the dilation of his pupils in the lamp light and plain and simply put...that man had Hell in his eyes. Otherwise, he had a very pleasant face and a 5 o'clock shadow you knew you'd never get to feel rubbing up against your your thighs. Michael was here to fuck and he was here to release years of pent up, merciless, indiscriminate arousal. 

You'd fantasized for years about what it would be like to be in the presence of Michael. The trepidation that it would naturally cause to any normal person being so close to a cold blooded killer with no perceivable level of morals was exhilarating to you, even if it meant endangering your life for that chance to be the one to please him. He's visibly hard beneath the work suit. You test his breaking point by reaching out a hand and begin stroking at the material. Michael is clearly stimulated and you wonder how much it will take to set him off. Just as you stand on your tippy-toes to taste his lips Michael's not having it and slams you onto the bed, unfastens the fly of his coveralls and unleashes his fat cock, evidently a good 7" long and perfectly thick. This man's not fucking playing.

Just as you feel your clit begin swelling with bloodflow Michael plows into you, making the first distinctive noise you'd ever heard other than breathing and causing you to moan. He slowly pulls out until just the tip is resting inside of you - his black, storm cloud eyes teasing an oncoming lightening strike as they peer into yours - grabbing your calves and sliding your legs to rest upon his shoulders. Michael finally plows in again, every inch of his long shaft disappearing inside of you and you're un-shy to show how very good it feels. " _Give it to me, Michael, fuck me..._ ", you plead. You can solemnly tell that Michael's trying not to moan. He begins thrusting into you at a steady pace, hitting that one right spot with the perfect curvature of his manhood and for a brief moment he forgets himself, losing the composure he'd worked for many years to maintain. Gripping your thighs in his hands he pulls you backwards until your bottom is off the bed and pussy is angled slightly upward, having his very own way and pulling you into him with a viscerous force he didn't even know he had. 

As you conform completely to the authority of Michael's dominance you can't help but notice how inhumanly disciplined and educated he is for being so young and never having a sexual experience before. Sidetracked thoughts are quickly forced aside as you feel that first familiar but dearly missed wave rush over you as your orgasm approaches. Michael pounds at your sweet spot, using your moans as guidance to continue his work while your muscle contractions envelope his cock and wetness doubles to invite him to cum. His breathing intensifies but just as you think he's teetering over the edge, he violently flips you over, fucking you so hard your feet leave the carpet. " _Cum with me, Michael!_ ", you cry out as tears leave your eyes as the breath was knocked clean from your lungs. Michael places his hands against your hips and devours the extra tightness it provides from thrusting into you from the back and relishing the way your ass looked as it hit against him. One lone moan breaks loose from beneath Michael's lips as he stiffens, throbbing as an intoxicating feeling takes charge and he experiences his first explosive cum, unloading it all deep inside of you. 

You wanted to replay this bliss again and again, never wanting him to leave you. Face planted firmly against the comforter of your bed, you feel Michael pull out of you, causing you to moan one final time. Rolling over onto your back, the two of you compose your breath as Michael zips up the fly of his coveralls. You grab at the inexpressive mask by your side and raise it upwards towards Michael, whose cavernous black eyes pierce right into yours for one last long moment before he slips the mask over top of his head and becomes the Boogeyman once again....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Cue the Halloween theme song*
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> Come follow my [Tumblr](https://mistress-gif.tumblr.com/) made specifically for GIF creations or simply just to chat.


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